


Christmas Reunion

by SherlockMalfoy



Series: Sherlock!Wizardverse Drabbles - Drarry [15]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 1920s, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Death, Christmas, Gen, HP: EWE, M/M, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-18 08:36:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9377003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockMalfoy/pseuds/SherlockMalfoy
Summary: Draco, now settled with Harry in their new life, laments the holidays. Wishing to just drink a lot and skip them altogether as he mourns the loss of his old life and the family traditions of his childhood. This Christmas he will always remember as bittersweet.Meanwhile, Narcissa Malfoy's health is deteriorating. Even her personal potions master, Tobias Black, can't seem to brew a miracle. Her home imprisonment is, in itself, a slow death sentence as the echos of Voldemort's black magic terror clings to Malfoy Manor and making it uninhabitable. Though he cannot cure her, Tobias has one more miracle up his sleeve.





	

He had always been used to large ballrooms and holiday trees that stretched into the rafters. Of massive gift piles. Rich foods and plenty of cheer. His father's piano and his mother's famous punch that always warmed him from the inside out. The Ministry functions and the freshly starched collars of fine dress robes.

He should have been used to his new lot in life now. Gone were the endless buffets of sweets and treats. Gone were the mountains of gifts and gold. Parties thrown throughout the season by the wizard elite... and here he sat instead in a Venetian villa. Hiding from the world. Hiding from their pasts. His first true Yuletide away from England, away from Scotland and Wales. Away from the places he called home. He knew it wouldn't be forever. He and Potter would return to the lands of their youth. But they needed time away. Time in seclusion. The war had done so much to them both... it was for the best.

So he sat in the chair Harry had purchased for him when they moved in. The piece came from a muggle shop, and in appearance seemed the most uncomfortable seat imaginable. But once seated his body had instantly relaxed. It was far too comfortable, in his opinion, to have been made by mere muggles.

For a short time after the war they had hidden themselves in a home their companion and mentor Tobias Black had built for himself. Once the last of the Death Eater trials had concluded, he followed Harry to Italy.

Little mattered now as he raised his glass. The drink burned is throat as it went down. It was a muggle brew imported from North America. Mezcal, the werewolf had called it. They had already gone through the decent liquor in the cabinet, leaving this unlabeled concoction Tobias had sent them as a housewarming gift. It was disgusting, but it did it's job well.

It numbed him. That was all he needed to get through the days now. Thinking of his mother alone, imprisoned once more in Malfoy Manor... and he could not even go to see her. She could never leave without an auror escort - more for her safety than for anyone else. He hated this time of year now. so much death. So much heartbreak. So much destruction...

He heard the creaky floorboards before he heard the voice that accompanied them. Harry had come home from work. Draco refilled his glass and sat, absently rubbing his chest where the scars remained after Ginny Weasley's assault in the loo two years ago. The attack Harry still swears was the result of Pansy Parkinson's machinations.

Door opened. Draco paid it little mind as he took another sip from the glass. "Welcome home, such as it is," Draco said as Harry crossed the room to divest himself of his cloak and gloves before joining him by the fire.

Harry sat in the other chair before the fireplace. An old, lumpy piece of furniture that had survived the war. Stolen from the Gryffindor common room where, as now, it sat near the fire. Of all the things Harry had wanted in return for his deeds, it was that ugly chair he wanted the most.

Harry was leaning forward on the edge of the seat, facing the fire as he rubbed his hands in the warmth it put out. Draco sipped his drink again, watching him over the rim of the glass. His cheeks a bright pink from winter's cruel kiss. His nose red either from an after hours drink or constant wiping in the cold wind.

` "No Tobias tonight?" Harry asked, knowing it was best to avoid talk of his evening out, and Draco's evening in.

"First night of the full moon," he replied. "He is spending the holiday with Mother... I didn't want her to be left alone..."

Harry nodded his understanding. "I bought you something," he said. Upon hearing this, Draco set down his glass and turned his full attention to Harry. "Well, a few things really. With how busy tomorrow is going to be, I'd like to give them to you now."

"Harry-"

"I know you said not to bother, but you know I never listen to you."

"Yes you do. You just choose to ignore me."

"Well yes, that too. Wait here." He rose from the chair and went back across the room. Here, he lifted his cloak from where he'd laid it on a table. Draco turned in his seat to get a better view of his companion. After a few moments, Harry had returned to the fireside, a beaded hand bag in his hands. Draco recognized it instantly as the bag Granger toted around during the end of the war. It had a rather interesting feature that allowed one to store entire rooms full of objects inside the small space.

"You're giving me... a ladies purse. I know I'm a dandy, but Potter this is insulting."

Harry rolled his eyes and gestured towards his chair. It slid across the floorboards and positioned itself beside Draco's own. He sat down and set the purse on his lap. Draco watched him searching inside with great interest. Harry reached in deep, and looked as if he were about to try and climb inside before he finally sat up straight... pulling out a large silver frame.

With a single movement of a finger, the frame was flying through the air and settled on the wall above the fireplace. The small displays of power sent shivers down Draco's spine, but he ignored them for now. Instead he focused on the frame that now adorned the wall.

Draco stared at the man in the portrait in disbelief. "But... how?"

"This old chair isn't the only request I made. He was a headmaster, even for just a year. I asked for a copy and they gave me the original. He isn't... well, I didn't really understand, but the artist said he isn't awake yet."

"The magic of a wizard's portrait takes time to settle. You'll know when he's finished. He'll likely start critiquing your interior decoration skills... Or lack thereof."

Harry was pleased to see the light in Draco's eyes when he had gotten a proper look at the painting. He had not seen that spark in quite a long time. He reached into the bag again, searching for another gift. He was unsure if Draco would accept it or not but... well. Harry felt it was the thought that counted.

At last he found it. A small box.

"Harry... I know exactly where I'll hang it," Draco said after tearing his attention away from the painting. "Thank you. But you know I didn't get..." he trailed off when he saw the box in Harry's hand.

Keen eyes examined the box quickly – crushed baby velvet. Royal blue. A jeweler then. The shape of the box told him a small item. A pendant? A ring? - He turned his attention to Harry's face now. Unsure - worried - scared - cheeks flushed. Long enough since having returned home he should have warmed by now. No, not chapped cheeks from winter weather. Flushed in anticipation. Flushed with...

"Harry? What's in the box?"

"It's... It's nothing. Really," he replied, making to put it away now that he'd had a second to think about it.

"What's in the box Harry?" he said, rewording his statement. Harry had no time as Draco uttered the summoning charm and the box was stolen from his hands.

Draco eyed him carefully, opening the box but not looking into it just yet.

"Really, it's nothing," Harry repeated himself. "I just thought, well, not right away obviously- but- maybe someday-"

Draco looked down into the box now. And there, nestled in dark green satin sat a ring with a very peculiar looking crest. Carefully he picked up the ring and examined it. The ring was meant to be used as a seal, that much was obvious given the cut of the ring. No stones, and solid silver.

"Not gold?" he asked, a brow raised.

"Gold doesn't suit you."

Draco took a moment to set the ring and the box in his lap. Then without a word he removed the ring he currently bore. The seal of his family. The seal that had been tainted by years of service to a vile, inhuman master. "A stag and serpent," he said simply after replacing his old ring with the new one. "It fits."

"Really? It's not too tight or-"

"It fits. I do hope there are two of these," Draco said as he admired the new signet ring on his finger. As Harry worried over the sizing, Draco was reminded of the fortuitous turn his life had taken. Never had he been so close to death than when he stood at Potter's side. And each time he had stood on the brink of madness and death, it was Harry that pulled him back. Grounded him. Made him stronger than ever.

What began as pity and a forced oath had in time changed them both. Molded them, like silver in the hands of an expert jeweler. Their lives had become so entwined that it had become impossible to tell where the stag's antlers ended and the body of the serpent wound in them began. He felt his lips curl into the slightest of smiles. Like a serpent he could wrap himself around that pretty neck and squeeze. Choke the life out of him at any time. Bite him and poison him. Anger him and tease him to push the venom through his blood... He could kill him at any moment... But like a stag, Harry could stomp him into the dust. Gore him on those antlers. Throw him and a thrash him about. Beat him down into submission... They needed one another like fish need water and fire needs air. Certainly they could survive this new world without one another... But they were stronger together.

Draco stood, allowing the box and his old ring to fall to the floor and uncaring of where they landed. He had turned, offering the hand that now bore the new ring. The simple design of a stag's head, and a snake resting in its antlers as if a crown, spoke volumes. He would, of course, use the old ring for a time. Neither man could risk tipping their hand. Neither could afford the scandal. Not yet.

But for now...

"It fits," he said. "It's late and cold. Let's to bed."

Harry looked up at him when Draco offered his hand, bearing the new signet ring. He smiled and accepted it, allowing himself to be pulled up from his seat and led to the hallway leading off into the rest of the house.

 

_**o** _ _**0o** _

 

Tobias yawned as he stretched on the pile of furs and blankets. He rolled over and stared up into the ceiling. The furs felt good against his nakedness. He did not want to leave the soft pile he'd made for himself... but... familial duties called.

He yawned one more time, stretching again before climbing to his feet. The room was sparsely furnished. Most of the family heirlooms and antiques seized as war reparations. This room had once been Draco's nursery as a small child. Now it collected dust and served as his private sanctuary during his rare visits during the full moon.

"Master Tobias will be wanting clothes."

He turned to find a house elf standing beside a chair, fresh clothes draped across the back of it for him. A small wooden tray with a single cup of steaming tea.

"Thank you, but I can get these things for myself."

"Mistress says to be waiting on Master Tobias. I do as Mistress says."

He nodded, sighed, and began to get dressed. Well, the trousers at least. Out of habit he reached for a wand that was not there... that's right... it had broken in battle... He tutted himself and picked up the tea. "Where is my cousin this morning?" he asked.

"Mistress isn't wanting visitors."

"Well, what does she want?"

"To be left alone."

He sighed once again and nodded. "Alright. Breakfast for one then. Please tell Narcissa that I am awake, and if she needs anything to just ask." The house elf nodded before popping away.

Tobias looked at the remainder of his clothing. Old world fashion for a new world man. Well... if that was to be his lot now then so be it. He picked up his teacup and took it to the window.

Outside looked much as it had, will have had, in his childhood. Covered in snow. Quiet. Serene. Minus the tree that would later become the one safe place in the wards for apparition travel. The ash tree from which his father would fashion his second wand. The same tree that would stand as the silent signal that inside this place muggles were not only tolerated, but welcome.

The symbol of the nymph species "meliae". The sacred tree of ash.

Perhaps... perhaps he could plant it there himself, someday.

He turned from the window, extending his arm and soundlessly summoning the remaining clothing to him. Though he could now rest assured that his future, for the most part, was intact. There still was much to do in what now was his true present. His purpose, his mission, was now concluded. But he still had obligations to his family now... and in the future.

Once dressed, he flicked his wrist, and from a small pile of meager belongings in the corner rose a few items. A beaten bag, a weathered journal, and his personal quill. He was, after all, destined to recreate his wand. There were no time like the present to study up on wand lore.

 

_**o** _ _**0o** _

 

The first of morning's light filtered in through the window, gently caressing the pale face pressed against the pillow. It warmed his cheek, teasing him towards wakefulness before the mattress moved under the weight of another body.

He refused to open his eyes, groaning in protest of the day.

"Well happy Christmas to you, too," Harry said rather loudly, causing the man still in bed to try and burrow deeper into the warm covers. "I suppose you don't want breakfast then."

At this, Draco turned his head just enough to expose one open, silver eye. His voice was slightly muffled by the blankets, but Harry understood him well enough. "Yes, there's tea. And there's fresh jam for your toast. Anything else your highness?"

Draco mumbled again in what now had become a token protest before he finally rolled onto his back and stretched. He took his time to sit up in the bed, allowing the blankets to fall to his waist.

Green eyes watched his movements with great interest. Though now they most often shared a bed, it had been rare for Harry to wake before Draco. On such occasions it had become even more rare for Harry to indulge himself with the simple act of observation, as he often had to be up and out the door for yet another assignment for the... Well, Draco didn't quite know. That's the problems with secret organizations...

Draco caught him staring, could feel his eyes lingering far too long on the mass of scar tissue that now graced his chest. The worst of all his wartime injuries. The only one he often took great pains to hide, even from Harry. He turned from his rival turned lover and moved to rise from the bed. Harry's cheeks turned a shade pink, from second hand embarrassment or inconvenient arousal - neither would ever know for sure. So he shifted his attention to another topic. Breakfast. Which was, as it had been every morning since they had moved in, waiting for them on the veranda.

"I went to Number 12 this morning," he said, changing the subject as Draco casually looked through the wardrobe for something warm. Harry did his best to keep his eyes elsewhere. "You received a letter from the Minister himself."

"Another summons to pay for my father's mistakes I suppose," Draco said with a sleepy drawl as he dressed. "Just throw it in the fire. They've bled my family dry." Draco hung his head, then, rubbed at his eyes. "I'll... I'll be out in a few minutes. You know how I like my tea."

Harry knew the conversation was over before it could properly begin. He stood, and went to Draco. He stood behind him and, not knowing what else to do he put a hand on his forearm and gave a gentle squeeze. He was surprised when Draco reached up with his other arm and placed his hand over Harry's curled fingers. The signet ring Harry had given him the night before still a prominent feature on his ring finger. Draco gave his fingers a pat before pulling away to finish getting ready for the day.

When Draco out onto the veranda half an hour later, the sun was already high in the sky. Each column had been charmed to put off heat, keeping them warm and comfortable despite the winter cold. Still, the weather in Venice was much nicer this time of year than back home in England. A simple breakfast had been laid out on the table. Bacon. Eggs. Toast. Tea. Mail sat at the end of the table. Three stacks. Harry had already sorted it for them, and had been reading his own correspondence when Draco had come to sit down.

There, separate from his stack of mail and next to his fork, sat the plain envelope addressed to himself at Number 12 Grimauld Place. When he picked it up, he saw the seal of the Minister of Magic, currently former auror Kingsley Shacklebolt, closed over it. He broke the seal and opened the letter.

His silence caused Harry to stop eating and peer at him over another fan letter. "What is it? News of your father's... execution?"

He shook his head. "No..." he said, reading through the letter again. It was short and to the point. "I... My request for an appeal on behalf of mother..." he said. "It's been denied."

"What?! Even with my testimony?!" Harry reached across the table for the letter, but Draco quickly folded it and put it away into his pocket.

"You can't save everyone, Potter."

"Draco..."

"We tried," he said... unwilling to break down. Unwilling to express any emotion in response to the news at all. "But it seems the Ministry has already taken your testimony into account and is the reason she was sentenced to incarceration at home until such time that her sentence is served."

"That place is pure poison. She'll never..."

"It's Christmas, is it not?" Draco interrupted, trying his best to keep his mask in place. "I thought we may visit town before attending Madame Zabini's ball tonight."

"But-"

"Harry. Let's not. Not today. Nag me about it tomorrow if you must. But please. Not today."

 

_**o0o** _

 

He awoke with a start when he felt the blanket being draped over him, but settled when he felt a hand clasp his shoulder and her soothing voice. "It's alright, Tobias."

"Narcissa," he said softly as he turned. This caused her hand to slip from his shoulder, and he reached out to take it in his own before she could return it to her side. "How are you feeling today? Do you need-"

"No... No. Not today," she lied. He knew, and she knew that he knew. But they kept up the pretense. She'd also later lie and state she does not taste the potions in her goblet of Christmas punch. And he would know then, too. But that was their way. "I only came for a book."

"Well, you've come to the right place," he said with a soft laugh, giving her hand a squeeze before letting it drop. The lack of her wedding band did not go unnoticed. "After all, it is the family library." He stood from the seat he had fallen asleep in, and helped her sit down. She did not protest when he lay the blanket across her back and shoulders. "It's drafty in here," he said. "Now, what did you want from the shelves?"

"Why not simply ask-"

"The house elves are busy right now working on something for me I'm afraid and are utterly indisposed. I know this library inside and out. What would you like?"

"I was hoping to find a copy of A Christmas Carol. I know it's silly... a muggle story."

"Not at all. Muggles have some of the most wonderful imaginations. Charles Dickens especially. Whereabouts would it be? Not in plain sight, surely. Considering..."

"The shelves with volumes of old family diaries. There is a false back on the bottom shelf. I asked the house elves to hide it there."

Tobias nodded and fetched the book for her as she, meanwhile, looked over his notes. "You are going to begin crafting wands?" she asked as he sat in the floor somewhere behind her, pulling old, moldy books from the shelf.

"A wand," he replied loud enough for her to hear. "Singular. My wand."

"Wand crafting is a lucrative business venture. Ollivander will need help rebuilding his stores."

"Ollivander will be fine. I'm only interested in creating my wand."

She mulled over his word choice in his responses. Wand crafting was indeed a very profitable occupation, and required a great deal of skill and patience. In the few years she had known Tobias, she knew he had a keen intellect. A powerful drive in him to push ahead. But now that she knew his task had been completed, his destiny fulfilled...

"You say 'create'. As a child, did your parents not purchase a wand for you?" she asked as he set the book she had sought on the corner of the table.

"A wand is an extension of the self. It chooses it's witch or wizard. Mine... mine was different. It had been left to me by an old family friend when he died." He pulled out another chair to sit at the table. The corner, and her book, between them. "My grandfather, your son, gave me that wand for my eleventh birthday. It had been kept in black and yellow silk wrappings, and when I wrapped my fingers around the handle... it felt like my soul was singing. I could never explain fully what it was like. But it felt so familiar. Like I had been reunited with a long lost limb."

"Because you had crafted it here. Now. For the day when you would need it."

He nodded. "I did not realize that what I felt was the wand recognizing me. The things I had felt, those were not my feelings, not yet. They were the feelings I will experience when I craft the wand. Echoing through time and linking my wand to me. Making it stronger." He forced a smile. "Well, I'll not keep you from your reading." He stood, gathering up his notes and books so that he may take them back to his rooms before seeing to his surprise. He tucked his books under his arm and leaned forward, gently kissing her on the top of the head. "Happy Christmas, great grandmother," he said before leaving her to her reading.

A house elf popped in briefly to stoke the fire and bring her some tea before returning to the task that had been set for it.

 

_**o0o** _

 

Draco had been left waiting for Harry to join him out in the courtyard. He had been looking at the adjoining apartments and villas around the courtyard. Venice was, like much of Italy, very much a wizarding city. It had an old world feel to it that most of Europe simply couldn't quite get right. France had come the closest to embodying the true and natural balance of the muggle and magical worlds, at least Draco thought so. But until they had come to reside in Italy... well... Here they could live openly, insofar as magic was concerned.

In Venice, it had actually been encouraged for muggles and wizards to live side by side, and had been since the early history of Rome itself. That is why they came here. To practice their magic in the open, without hiding their true selves, but allowed the privacy afforded to any other person living in the great city on the water.

"A knut for your thoughts?"

He turned around to see Harry fastening his heavy winter cloak at his neck. "At last you're ready. It baffles me how you take so long to prepare to go out, and still look like you have been in a fight with a hippogriff."

Harry rolled his eyes and wrapped his cloak tightly about himself. "Come on. You're the one who wanted to go for a stroll." Together the men walked. Side by side in their heavy velvet cloaks as they walked the cobblestone streets. They had been in the city for a while now and had learned how to find their way so long as they didn't stray too far from the main streets.

"Where are we going?" Harry asked when Draco had led him down an alley.

"I found an English pub last week. I thought we might stop in for a bite and a drink."

Harry was hesitant. "I.... I don't know."

"What? Worried someone will recognize you?" Draco waved his hand at Harry's rightful concern. "It's a muggle establishment. As long as we don't use any magic, we'll be fine. It mostly is frequented by ex-patriots. No one asks about anyone's past. We'll be fine."

"Draco, the last time you said that, I nearly had my face bitten off."

"So I'm not right all of the time. Stay here and freeze if you like. I'm parched and feeling peckish."

In the end Harry followed him down the alley and to the pub. The place wasn't exactly full, but it wasn't dead either. They bellied up to a table and soon were digging into bowls of hot stew. There was a time when Draco would complain and turn his nose at the poor man's meal, but his time with Tobias during the war had cured him of it. A couple of pints were set on the table by a waitress. "From the gents at the bar."

Draco and Harry moved almost as one, lifting their heads and looking towards the bar. They didn't know the men sitting there. But the garish green and purple of their clothing gave them away. Draco gave them a curt smile, lifted his pint in acknowledgment.

"God save the King," one of them said. Draco gave a curt nod and responded in kind. And that was that. The two young war heroes were left to enjoy their meals, and their drinks, in peace.

After they had settled up their bill and stepped back out into the cold of Christmas day, Harry mumbled. "What was that about back there?"

"That, Harry, were two wizards quietly thanking you for saving England, and being discrete about it as well. When I found this place last week, I learned it is customary among the muggles that, when making a toast, we ask their god to save the reigning monarch of our homeland. A form of solidarity among fellow countrymen without actively committing to spending regular time with one another."

Harry covered his mouth to hide his smile as they walked, Draco leading the way once more back out into the main streets.

"What's so funny?"

"So this is what you get up to when I'm at work."

"A man must fill his time with something. If this is to be our home, then I will endeavor to learn as much as I am able about it."

The pair walked on in silence. Stopping to admire the artistic works of ages past that dotted the city as they meandered their way back home.

 

_**o0o** _

 

She had retired to her rooms for a rest, and awoke in the late evening to see a house elf waiting patiently for her. The creature had brought her a meal and a pitcher of water to drink. But that was not what caught her eye when she had become aware of her surroundings again.

No, what caught her eye had been a dress stand. Upon the stand had been a beautiful gown that seemed to shimmer in the light. A wonderful, rich and beautiful green. She had risen from bed, her dressing gown hanging off her frame as if a child wearing her mother's clothes. She felt the fabric of the ruffled sleeves before stroking the bodice and letting her hand fall to the flowing skirts. A very fine, very expensive silk.

"Where... why..."

"Master Tobias is wanting to show you a surprise, Mistress. He is wanting to give you a gift."

She looked to the house elf. "Bibsy was told to make this for Mistress. All day Bibsy work and toil to make perfect."

"I can't..."

"Master Tobias, he say you say that. He says Mistress is needing new dress. Is needing to feel loved on Christmas. Eat now, and Bibsy will come to help Mistress put on new dress. New dress for surprise."

The house elf left her with a crack of thunder. She stood staring at the dress, then she turned to the food. Her stomach hurt as she ate, protesting against the potions she knew had been used to make it. Potions that, she knew, were for her own good. To help treat her poor health conditions left over from the war. She washed it down with the water, the cool liquid soothing her throat.

She had still not dressed when the house elf Bibsy returned to her chamber an hour and a half later. The house elf poked and prodded until finally she agreed to put on the dress in order to get the wretched creature to leave her alone. Once dressed, with new shoes the elf had brought to her in the same brilliant shade of green, she was instructed to go to the ballroom.

She was hesitant. Unwilling to venture out of her rooms. In the end, she went out. Taking her time, and trying to keep her head high as she walked. If he were going to force her to celebrate this wretched holiday, then she was going to make him work for it.

Her resolve began to falter, however, when she reached the large doors of the ballroom. She had not been back in this room since... it was a time she did not wish to think about for fear of tasting the bile in the back of her throat.

The double doors opened, catching her by surprise. There before her stood Tobias in a new suit. It was obvious the suit was in the muggle fashion, but it was the effort that mattered. His hair was neatly combed and some product of some kind applied to keep it in place out of his face. "Happy Christmas," he said, stepping forward and turning to stand beside her, offering her his arm. "You look stunning."

"Don't lie to me."

"No, you do," he said, indicating that she take his arm. Reluctantly, she accepted. He led her into the room and, unknown to her until she felt the strange and sudden spinning of the world, he had stepped on an enchanted tile in the floor.

When the world stopped spinning, she felt a bit sick, and put her free hand to her stomach, trying not to heave. "Apologies. That... that was the wards they put in place to ensure you never leave the manor. We sort of... side stepped them a bit. As long as we return in roughly eleven hours, the Ministry won't know you've left."

"Are you insane!" She pulled away from him and slapped him across the face. "You're going to get me killed!"

She pulled her arm back to slap him again, but he caught her wrist. "Look, I've put a lot of work into this and had to make a lot of promises and call in many favors. Right now, there is a doppelganger sitting in the family library reading. She is you, but a temporary you. And I can only ever create one. I've put a lot of effort into this present, and you're not going to ruin it."

"You... you slimy, filthy, mangy-"

"My brother's called me much worse-"

"Are you two quite finished?"

Tobias and Narcissa turned their faces to the voice to see a dark skinned man staring at them through one good eye, the other bearing a curse scar. To see it made Toby's stomach lurch. So young... too young to bear the scars of war. "Yes. I believe so," Tobias said, releasing Narcissa's wrist and offering his arm once again to her.

"Good. Because the pair of you are hogging the apparition point. If you want to argue, do so in the foyer please. And away from my mother. She doesn't like people fighting at her holiday gatherings."

Narcissa tutted and left Tobias standing there with no other option but to follow him. Before doing so, however, he stopped to speak with the young man directly. "Are they here yet?"

"Not yet. They were seen in town earlier this evening. I imagine they went home to freshen up first."

Toby clasped a hand on his shoulder. "Make sure our presence isn't announced to everyone, alright. I can't have this go tits up and get her sent to Azkaban."

"You know you're playing a dangerous game, Black."

"Zabini, you don't know the half of it." He hurried to catch up with Narcissa in the foyer.

 

_**o0o** _

 

"I hate wearing these things," Harry said, tugging at his collar. "Especially when they've got the ruffles. Can't I just wear a normal shirt and tie like a sane human being?"

"Harry, we are aristocrats. A certain amount of flair is expected of us."

Harry tugged at the stiff collar again. There was nothing for it. He couldn't get it loose. "I'm going to melt."

Draco exaggerated his sigh and rolled his eyes. "Fine, take off the ruffles. I'll do it as well so we at least look like we attempted to coordinate."

Another half hour and Draco, once more ready long before Harry, had been waiting by the floo. He had been examining the ring once again, admiring the new crest to use now in place of his own. He may spring it on people unawares now rather than wait and phase the traditional Malfoy sigil into retirement.

"Harry, your hair," he tutted when Harry had joined him. It was unkempt still, but an effort had been made. "Did you at least try to use the charms I taught you?"

"I told you, no amount of charms, soaps, oils, or creams will fix this. It is what it is."

Draco sighed. "At least you ran a comb through it. It's more than expected of you I suppose."

Harry wrinkled his nose, grabbed a handful of floo powder from the box on the wall and tossed it in while Draco gave the address of Madame Zabini.

Soon, after quite a turbulent traverse through the Italian floo network, Harry stumbled out coughing with a singed hem. Draco stepped out gracefully, brushing a bit of soot off his arm. "I keep telling you to inhale deeply before you step in, and hold it until you reach the other end. Honestly Potter," he said with a small shake of his head.

Once he got his breath back Harry glared at him. "Raised by muggles, remember," he snapped back.

Before the two could bite back and forth at one another, a light, sing-song voice wafted through the air. "Harry. Draco. Are you friends with Madame Zabini as well?"

"Luna?!" Harry exclaimed, opening his arms to embrace her when she came near. "What are you doing here?!"

Draco mumbled a quick greeting before leaving Harry to catch up with his friend. He looked around for Blaise, finding him in a small entryway. "I know your mother's rich friends love to announce themselves, but please. Keep it quiet about Harry and I. He's... not wanting to be very sociable lately."

Blaise rolled his one good eye. "From the way I hear it, you're the one who sits at home alone drinking all day."

Draco grumbled at him, and after a bit of back and forth his old school mate agreed to keep their presence quiet... Well. To most. Soon after Draco left him to rejoin Harry, who had moved with Luna to the feasting hall, Blaise sought out Tobias and Narcissa.

He found them enjoying wine with one of his mother's sewing circle, telling stories about the old days of her youth in Naples. Blaise interrupted briefly to whisper into Tobias's ear, causing the werewolf to light up and whisper something back.

 

_**o0o** _

 

They had been at the ball for over an hour before Harry heard it. The barking laugh. Then a firm hand clasping his shoulder. "There you are!"

"T-T-Tobias?!"

"In the flesh." He gave Harry's shoulder a squeeze. "I need to borrow you a moment. Just a tick. It's rather important... Black family business, you understand."

Harry half protested and half excused himself from the conversation he had been having with some rather lively muggle priests. Madame Zabini sure traveled in odd social circles. Once he had been pulled far enough away from the crowd, Harry turned on Tobias.

"What is the meaning of this? You're meant to be in Wales. With Draco's mother."

"I am. Well. Mostly. Sort of. Look. I can't tell you in great detail because honestly, this is sketchy as hell and it's best you don't know everything. But... I have a present for Draco that can't wait."

It was only now that Harry noticed Tobias had steered him not only away from the crowd, but to the opening of a small, private nook. And there, just inside... He glared hard at Tobias. "I swear, if this is a trick-"

"No trick. I used your doppelganger spell to create a double of Mrs. Malfoy at the manor. And kind of had her eat a meal laced with house elf blood to get her through the wards undetected. Don't tell her that part. It wasn't a whole lot... just a wee little bit. Just enough to make the wards go a little funny and let her slip through undetected. It'll wear off by morning though. So..."

Harry leaned in to speak quietly, turning his back on the woman in the nook. "She doesn't look well, Tobias. She should be at home."

"Home... where the very walls are filled with Voldemort's poison. That house is killing her. Even my potions have stopped working. Her physicians... She doesn't know how bad her condition truly is. She won't survive to see the new year, Harry. I had to give her this. Let her see that her sacrifices were worth it. Please."

"Are you certain?"

Tobias looked him square in the eye. "I will swallow an entire cauldron of Veritaserum if you like." After a long moment of thought, Harry nodded.

"I believe you," he said. "You want me to..." Tobias nodded.

"We'll be right here waiting for you."

Harry looked back to Mrs. Malfoy before leaving to find Draco again.

Tobias went into the nook, and offered his arm to steady the fragile woman. He helped her to sit on a bench, applying cushioning charms to the wood for her with a wave of his hand.

"Do you think... do I look alright?" she asked. "Should I try a glamour? I don't want to worry him..."

He leaned in and gently kissed the top of her head. "You look beautiful. A bit on the thin side, a wee bit pale, but very striking." She attempted to smooth out the skirts of her dress as she nervously waited. Instinctively, she reached for Tobias's hand when she heard footsteps approaching. He covered her hand with his other and gave it a pat of reassurance as first Harry, then Draco came into view.

"Mother?"

She tried to rise, but Draco rushed forward, half sliding half collapsing onto the bench beside her. Tobias released her hand and stepped aside as mother and son embraced for the first time since her incarceration had begun. Since he and Harry had hidden themselves away until the Death Eater trials had been concluded.

"Mother, how? I was told your sentence-" He was silenced by a finger to his lips.

"Quiet child. Tonight, I am Miss Winnona Holmes of.... where am I from again Toby?"

"Baker Street, ma'am," he replied. It was a very thin, very flimsy story. But one that could hold just enough water for a few hours tonight. "And I am merely your humble servant." He gave a small bow. "If you'll excuse me, I'll just go fetch you some punch. Give you a bit of time alone with our lordlings."

Draco turned slightly, reaching out to grasp his forearm before he could leave. "Thank you. Whatever you've done, however you have managed to do this. I am in your debt."

"Think nothing of it. You're my family. I take care of my family." He slipped away, leaving Harry to join mother and son for a quiet, though bittersweet reunion.

 

_**o0o** _

 

Tobias had fetched the three of them a glass of Madame Zabini's Christmas punch before mingling with the muggles who dotted the landscape of the feasting hall. Periodically he would circle around back to the nook to check on things. It was on his last round he found Harry waiting outside the nook for him.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"They asked me to step out for a few minutes."

"I see."

"This is it, isn't it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Draco's mum. She's dying. this is the last time they'll see one another, isn't it?"

"Yes."

Harry clenched his fist in silent anger, and tried to keep his voice calm. "How can you know? How can you be so calm and sure right now? She's your family, too, isn't she?"

Tobias sighed and placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it what was meant to be a comforting squeeze. "Harry, my boy, it's not that I do not care. I care immensely. More than you could ever truly comprehend. And that is not patronizing, it is simply the truth." He took his hand away and glanced past him into the nook once again. It seemed mother and son were nearly finished with their visit. He and Narcissa would have to go very soon. Give him time to... change. And her time to rest. "Draco will hide his pain. He will bury it so deep in order to avoid dealing with it. He's very good at this, and it's something you will work hard against your entire lives. But remember this. You don't know what it's like to lose your parents. Not really. You grew up with stories of who they were or might have been. Of their deeds and how they died. They did not raise you, and though it was your mother's love that kept you safe, you never knew what a mother's love truly feels like. Draco does. For all the despicable acts his parents have done over the years, his father especially... his mother only did so to keep him safe. To spare him her own fate. He-"

Tobias was interrupted by Narcissa calling for him to join her.

"Just a moment, Cissa," he said. Then hurriedly finished what he was going to say. "He is going to feel lost. He's going to be an orphan. And in that way, you can help him work through it. Don't give him platitudes, Potter. Give him unconditional and unwavering compassion. No matter how much you just want to hex his face off."

He hurried to Narcissa's side then, leaving Harry staring after him as the werewolf's entire demeanor changed from that of an experienced elder to the doting relation. Changing one mask for another. He took her hand and helped her rise from her bench so that standing, she may embrace Draco once more. Harry watched as Tobias pulled a handkerchief from a pocket inside his jacket and offered it to her.

He pressed his shoulder into the bit of wall that stuck out, helping to create the little nook, and crossed his arms over his chest as he watched their final quiet exchanges. As they said their goodbyes, Narcissa reached into the bodice of her dress and removed a small, dark blue sachet and offered it to him. After he took it, she leaned in to kiss his cheek and whispered into his ear. When Draco's mother pulled away, her son's expression was one of utter shock.

"Come along, Tobias," she said rather loudly. "Before we are missed." She held out her arm, and he linked his own with it. Draco watched them go, unable to work through what his mother had just whispered in his ear. He stared after them as Harry moved to allow them to pass. She stopped briefly to wish Harry a very merry holiday.

When the pair were out of sight, heading towards the foyer and presumably to the apparition point in order to return home before they were found out, Harry rushed to Draco's side.

His companion was pale, more pale than Harry had ever seen him. Clutching the sachet to his chest so tightly his knuckles were turning ghostly white. "Draco? What did she say? What happened?"

"I... I need some air," he said, pushing Harry away and rushing from the nook. Harry followed after him, apologizing to everyone Draco had bumped into. He looked around to see if Tobias and Narcissa had left yet... and in his heart he knew they were long since gone.

 

_**o0o** _

 

They had returned to the Manor on the very same tile in the ballroom from which they had left. Immediately Tobias cast a _**bombarda**_ hex to break the tile, lest it be discovered to have been illegally charmed. Narcissa had stumbled, and reached out to brace herself on the door frame as a coughing fit shook her to her very core.

"Vitus!" Tobias cried, summoning the house elf he had employed once Severus Snape had been killed. "Vitus!"

When the house elf appeared, Tobias rattled off a list of names before reaching out to pick up his great grandmother and carry her across his arms. "Quickly man!" he barked, the growl of the wolf in his voice. Without a word he pushed his magic out and ahead to open every door between the ballroom and the private chambers of the lady of the manor. His strides were quick and his footfalls heavy on the marble floors.

Once he had reached her rooms, he lay her in bed on her side, quickly trying to loosen the bodice of her dress to allow her to breathe more easily. The house elf popped in and out with bottles and vials. Poultices and sachets. Tobias knew he had a very short time to work. He had willed his body to put off his transformation for as long as he possibly could. The pain, the strain on his body, on his senses however had been worth the look on Narcissa's face when she saw her son. The unadulterated joy of a Draco's reunion with her.

He spoke to the house elf as he worked, giving the creature very detailed instructions on what to do through the night. On what to do in case... The house elf understood. It had long been an assistant to the potions master of Hogwarts, and was very familiar with the effects of the brews Tobias had created and had been giving Lady Malfoy. He worked as long as he had been able before excusing himself. As Narcissa hugged her stomach and moaned in discomfort, the unholy screams echoed through the empty manor. Changing into ghastly inhuman howls as the man gave in and became the beast beneath his human skin.

At long last, the woman had stopped struggling to breathe. She had settled into an uneasy sleep as the door creaked open. The house elf's attention went from the sleeping Mistress to the large red wolf that crept into the room.

Silver eyes watched the elf as the wolf paced the room, sniffing. Growling. Then leaving just as quietly as it had come. Out into the darkness of the manor proper to prowl and to stalk until the light of dawn.

 

_**o** _ _**0o** _

 

Draco had been shaken to his core. He had known the day would come, but he did not expect himself to be feeling grief. Not after the hate and resentment he had carried inside him for the man. The cold air was all that kept him from passing out in sheer emotional exhaustion. He stood on the balcony of the villa's upper level, gripping the railing tightly to keep himself under control.

He could feel it just beneath the surface, crying to get out. Should he... should he just for a while give in and allow himself to change? To take to the air and keep going? Where would he even go? His life was in Venice now. Here with the cobblestone streets and the maze canals. The exotic shops and the freedom of simply just living his life, in a culture that didn't force him to hide his magic, hide half of himself. His existence was here. In a little villa off a courtyard surrounded by muggle dwellings. In a comfortable chair. His home.. here... with Harry.

"Are you alright out here?"

He took a deep breath and tried to let it out slowly. To keep from lashing out at the man who came up to the railing beside him. Draco watched from the corner of his eye as the man put his hands on the rail and looked up into the night. Up at the dark clouds that obscured the moon. Draco traced the scar that marred the side of the man's face, having removed the use of an eye. The pale scars in the dark skin. "Blaise," he said, willing his voice to remain calm.

"Draco."

"Did you know?"

"Know what? That your mother was coming? Hell, Draco. I helped organize it. You're not the only one with Ministry contacts you know." He sighed. "As soon as I had heard you asked for an appeal on her behalf, I contacted Black. This has been on the books for months."

"Glad to know you can be trusted to keep a secret," he said, the words were nearly spat, stinging with bitterness. But his old friend knew it had been to hide his true emotions. His real feelings. No one could read Draco as easily as Blaise had always been able. Not even the great Potter himself could penetrate that wall. Not yet.

"Then... your father." He sighed, turning to lean with his elbow on the railing. He put a hand to his face, dragging it down to rub his chin with a great sigh. "Yes."

"When?"

"I don't see why it matters."

"It matters to ME. When?"

"Three weeks," he replied.

"Who else knows?"

"The Ministry, obviously. Your mother. Black."

"And Harry? Does he know?" When Blaise didn't answer, Draco repeated the question. "Does he know?"

"If he knew, do you think he would hold it back from you? After everything you've been through for each other? If he hasn't told you, then he doesn't know. If it's any consolation, from what I've heard... he went peacefully. Simply didn't wake up for his meal. No poison. No foul play."

Draco let his hands slip from the rail and turned, glancing back towards the door leading inside. "I need time to think," he said. "Just... I need to clear my head." He unfastened his cloak and let it fall to his feet before he began to undress. "Make sure to keep my clothes where I can reach them. I just..."

"You're not going to go flying around this late at night? Draco, it's-"

He had already removed his robes and unbuttoned his shirt. "Fine," Blaise said at last when it was obvious Draco would not take any sane advice. "Use the servant's entrance around back. I'll have the house elves keep hold of your clothes. You're insane, you know that. There hasn't been a dragon seen in these parts for years."

When he had stripped off the last of his clothing, dropping his underclothes onto the pile, he climbed up onto the stone railing. "I'm not a dragon, Blaise. I'm a wyvern. There is a difference."

With that, he took a leap of faith. Blaise stooped to pick up his friend's discarded clothes as wings beat the air, propelling the scaled creature up into the night sky. "Harry's going to bloody kill me..." he grumbled as he went back inside with the dress robes hanging off his arm.

 

_**o0o**_ ****

 

Harry had been fighting sleep. He was angry. He was beyond angry, he was furious. He kept himself up by trying to read. Then by listening to some music. When that failed he decided to cook. Failing that, he merely started pacing their sitting room. His wand, his new one, sat on the mantle below the portrait of Severus Snape who remained as still and as silent as a portrait can.

But the painted eyes followed the upset savior of Wizarding Britain as he fought his instincts to go out and hunt down his beloved. Silently Snape's portrait watched. And waited. He had begun to awaken while the two men were out for the evening... and was not at all happy to have Harry Potter be the first thing he could see when he had awoken.

But... such was the fate of a wizard's portrait. He listened as Harry tried to talk himself through his emotions. Mumbling and muttering to himself as he sorted through the things he wanted to say and weeded out the things he knew would be horrible to say.

And the painting watched over Potter as he began to wind down in the wee hours of the morning and settling into a horribly hideous, lumpy chair before the fireplace below. If paintings could feel relief, Snape supposed he would be feeling it when he heard the creaking of a door and the careful, measured steps into the room.

"You were out late."

Draco had stopped dead in his tracks.

"He finally went to sleep. Leave him there."

"When did you..."

But it was too late. The portrait had closed it's eyes, and sat in it's painted chair in quiet repose. Draco edged closer. The last embers of the fire that had been blazing through the night putting out a sombre warm glow now. He took off his cloak, and laid it across his sleeping lover before retiring to their bedroom.

 

_**o0o** _

 

Tobias rolled over on the pile of warm furs and stretched. His eyes closed as he took in the warmth from the sunlight streaming in through the window.

A slight cough.

He didn't notice. He was rather enjoying the feel of the furs against his back and his legs. Very soft. Very nice.

Another cough. Louder.

He opened one eye lazily, but what he saw had been enough to shock him awake and grabbing for one of the fur blankets to cover himself. "N.... N.... Narcissa!"

She chuckled some and offered him a proper robe. Turning her head aside to give him a moment of privacy to hide his nakedness, she couldn't help but tease him. "Most pureblood families wouldn't think twice about how close their blood relations are. You're quite... fetching when you're cleaned up."

His cheeks burned brightly as he scrambled to his feet and closed the robe, tying the belt at his waist rather tightly indeed. "Thank goodness we're above that, great-grandmother," he replied.

"Yes. Your wife was a very fortunate young woman," she replied. "Your parents must have been very proud."

"Well I- Hey! Wait now just a minute!"

She allowed herself another chuckle. "Come to breakfast in the conservatory once you've made yourself presentable." She left him there at her bedroom window, stopping at the door briefly to look over her shoulder, thanking him for watching over her through the night.

Once Tobias had cleaned himself up, and fetched clothing from his own rooms he did join her for breakfast. He found her sitting in a high backed wicker chair with an ornate and flowing design that reminded him of seashells. There had been brought a second chair, identical to it, to sit opposite a small wicker table. A cart nearby with a house elf in attendance to see to their needs. The presence of Narcissa's medicinal potions was not lost on him.

"Breakfast among the roses Narcissa?"

"I love roses," she replied as he seated himself. Tea and fresh crumpets had been set out for him, with a bowl of clotted cream. Narcissa herself sat with a bowl of porridge with bits of fruit. It was the most she could manage most mornings. "Always have. So beautiful. But also dangerous and wild."

He nodded, slathering a bit of cream on one of his crumpets before taking a large bite. He listened to her talk. It was refreshing to see her so calm. So content. Today, he thought, may actually be one of her better days. When he'd finished his crumpets, the house elf had placed a small plate of bacon and eggs before him. Narcissa continued, now educating him on the proper care and tending of roses. Telling him of the different techniques needed when dealing with one species, and the best ways to coax the largest and most vibrant buds out of another.

She had not noticed he had finished eating until well after their third pot of tea and the sun had risen high.

"Listen to me, nattering on so. I must be boring you to tears."

He shook his head. "No. I like hearing you talk. It's obvious how passionate you are about your flowers. How proud you are of them. You remind me of my grandmother."

"What... what are they like, where you come from?"

"Who?"

"Your.... it's still so strange to me. Your grandparents, I mean. Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter having children together. It's preposterous. Impossible. And yet here you are."

He attempted to hide behind his teacup by taking a long sip of his now tepid tea. But he could not escape her blue stare. Waiting for his answer. Waiting for him to speak.

"Well..." he started, setting his cup down and looking away. He could not meet her gaze. It made him wish to squirm in his seat. "They're old. And gray. And you've seen, grandfather walks with a limp and a cane. My brothers always told me grandfather was very cold. Very severe, much like father. Grandfather was certainly stern, but he was very warm. Very genuine with his thoughts and feelings. At least he was with me. I think I might have been his favorite."

"Draco always dotes on those he favors, even the house elves," she interrupted.

"Well, we got along quite well when I was a boy. Certainly better than he and father ever did. He might have known, back then, rather when it happens, what I would grow up to become. Now that I look back on my life, I'm certain he knew my road always led to here. To now. Some part of him must have recognized me in his lifetime. Enough so that when he died, his portrait carried the secret onward through the years that followed."

He sighed, leaning back in his chair and laying his arms on the rests. He tapped out a tune from the night before on the end with his fingertips. A lovely violin piece. It had been so long since he had heard the violin played with such care. Too long. He closed his eyes and smiled, knowing she still watched him. Knowing she was waiting for him to speak again. Eager to know of the life ahead for her son, for her lineage. Knowing she would not be alive to see it, but still hoping, still wishing...

"And your grandmother?" she asked. "What of Harry?"

"Harry now, is it? Not Potter?"

"He is to my son what my husband had been to me years ago before we became caught up in the purity wars and the playthings of a madman. It would be in poor taste to carry such a grudge or feud to my tomb."

"Ah... It makes sense. Only those with regrets and grudges return to haunt the living."

"And I have done more than enough haunting while alive. I have no use for it when I am gone," she replied. "Now, what of your grandmother? He enjoys gardening?"

He noted the desperation in her tone, and returned to his memories, to his walk down nostalgia lane.

"I used to play in this conservatory you know. I will lose many hours here, running through the flora like it is my own personal jungle. But the roses... Those are Harry Potter's pride and joy. Many of these same rosebushes will be pruned and tended." He rose to his feet and leisurely walked around the area, pointing out where Harry would plant the mandrake root for Draco. Or where some exotic tree saplings would be placed to get their start for the first few years until they could be planted on the grounds proper.

He returned to the roses, stopping by one bush in particular. Small compared to the others, with a few small blooms. He crouched down beside it, cupping one small flower with his hand. "Rosa foetida," he whispered to himself with a soft smile. "This is one of my father's favorites," he said, plucking the flower and returning to the wicker furniture. "The Soleil d'or. Noted for it's resemblance to a sunset." He caressed the pale orange-yellow petals fondly before setting the flower on the table between the chairs. "Father is going to steal this one some day. He's going to transplant it to his home in Sussex when he retires. It reminds him of my dad. Of the desert and the fire of the sun in the twilight. My dad was, is going to be, a soldier in a muggle war."

He ruffled his hair some. "But you... didn't want to hear about that. You wanted to hear about Harry."

"No no. It's fine. Your face when you talk about your family is so relaxed. Innocent even."

He let out a long breath and sat back down. "Well, I loved them."

She reached across the divide, taking his hand. "I know it's been difficult for you. Caring for me even as I waste away." He tried to interrupt, but she shushed him. "Watching over Draco, and Harry. Ensuring they survive, and that your future happens. None of them will ever know how deeply you care for them. How much you love them, and have always loved them. You have so much heart, Tobias. Too much sometimes. No one else will ever tell you, because no one else can ever know. But I know." She squeezed his hand tightly. "So I will tell you. You are a remarkable, selfless, resilient young man. You are strong in ways you never even knew were possible. And above all else... you are so very kind. You go on, trying to hide. Trying to pretend you don't care. But I see right through you. And I am proud." She gave his hand another squeeze before releasing it. "I think... I think I'll go rest a while now. Excuse me," she said.

"For the record, Narcissa, I'm far from young. I'm older than you are."

She smiled. "And you look remarkably fit for a man over 50 years."

He stood to help her, but she waved him off. "I'll be fine. Just a little tired," she replied. "You stay. Enjoy the roses."

He watched her go. Only when the house elf began to clear away her untouched porridge and her empty teacup did he notice she had taken the flower with her.

 

_**o0o** _

 

They had been fighting for hours. Harry angry after learning that Draco had shifted into his animagus form and abandoned him at the party. Draco was angry at him because, well, Harry was angry at him. He did not know how to not be angry at Harry when Harry was angry.

After many hexes and curses later, the two men were slumped down in the floor on opposite sides of the bed. "Let's not do that again," Harry said.

"I make no promises," Draco replied with a wince. He could only hear out of one ear at the moment, so he had that ear turned towards the sound of Harry's voice. "I just needed to get out of there."

"You could have come found me."

"I needed to be alone. I had to think."

"About what?"

"About life."

Harry was silent at this. Thinking. He was reminded of Tobias's words to him the night before. About when Draco's mother dies. About how Draco's world will suddenly be changed and he will be alone. Like himself. But different.

"You know that I love you, right?"

He was pulled from his thoughts. "Your hexes say otherwise."

"When Severus found out what my patronus was in sixth year... he was angry."

"Why? You had no control over what it would look like. No one knows what it looks like until they can fully cast it."

Draco got to his hands and knees, and crawled around the end of their bed to join Harry on his side. He sat cross-legged in front of him. Looking over his own handiwork as he felt Harry's eyes examining the damage he had done himself. Draco and Harry would always fall into this destructive cycle. It was their way. Unhealthy, yes. But it was a fire between them. Always had been. And there always would be. He opened his arms, bruised and purple, much like his face. Harry hadn't fared much better.

But the gesture was not in vain, and Harry moved forward, falling into his arms and resting his head against Draco's chest, listening to his heartbeat. Once Harry was settled, Draco wrapped his arms around him and spoke. "He didn't want me to grow up to be him. In love with someone who would never love me back."

Harry held him tighter. He closed his eyes and listened to Draco's heart as it quickened, then once again slowed. They sat like this, in silence, for a long while before Draco spoke again.

"Mother gave me her wedding bands," he said. "They... could only come off once one of them had died."

He looked with his good eye past Harry, to wardrobe where he had hidden the sachet before laying down to sleep. His mother had been given the ring after his father's death. And she had kept it an herb pouch that she carried with her at all times. An old folk charm, she had said. But when he'd felt the pouch. When she'd whispered goodbye, he knew.

"My mother..." he said. "She's going to die soon, isn't she?"

Harry lifted his head to look at him. To stare into the face he had marred with a stringing hex. "Yes," he said, scanning every inch of his face for any sign of emotion. And sign of... anything. Draco drew a deep breath, then slowly exhaled. "Yes," he repeated.

"How long does the mongrel think she has?" he asked, his voice cold. A forced coldness to hide the rage and the fire inside.

"Days," Harry replied truthfully, insofar as he knew.

"Will there be... will there be a service?"

"I don't know. He didn't say. I imagine, given her situation..." Harry trailed off. And Draco did not pursue it. Instead they sat once more in pained silence... the physical maladies hiding the true pain of loss and uncertainty beneath them.

 

_**o0o** _

 

Days passed, and the New Year came. Church bells clanging all day long the first day to ring it in. Draco and Harry had not spoken of the day they had fought. The day after Christmas. As his mother's impending death loomed over Draco like a grim specter, Harry did his best to prepare himself for when Draco would need him most.

The news of Narcissa's death came by way of a pint of beer in the pub, late on New Year's evening as he and Harry enjoyed a few meat pies and listened to the chatter of the pub. When the waitress pointed to the scraggly looking blond man at the bar, Draco had turned to see who had sent the pint over.

There sat Tobias. Raising his own pint. "God save the King," he said, starting a lackluster chorus of the same around the pub. Draco gave him a nod. Tobias returned it and took a long pull of his drink. "Tonight boys! Drinks are on me!" he said, pulling out banknotes and laying them on the counter for the bartender to clearly see. "Drinks for everyone to ring in the new year!" He lifted his pint again for everyone to see as the bartender checked the notes to ensure they were real.

Satisfied with them, and overjoyed at the good fortune, the portly muggle man started passing out drinks as fast as he could.

Harry and Draco looked on, dumbfounded for a moment before Toby turned his attention silently back to them. He gave a nod, finished his drink, and left during the commotion he'd created.

Harry leaned forward some so Draco could hear him. "What was that?!" He had to nearly shout to be heard.

"He told me once that it was how he told his siblings that their remaining parent had died. With a round of drinks and a quiet nod." He shook his head, picked up his gifted pint. "God save the King," Draco said drily before drinking.

 

_**o0o** _

 

News traveled fast across Wizarding Britain once it was discovered that Narcissa Malfoy had died. The Daily Prophet speculated on whether or not there would be a service, given that while she had technically betrayed You-Know-Who and engineered her son's escape, she was still a marked Death Eater. Change of heart or not, a disgraced criminal.

Then again, The Daily Prophet had also run hit pieces on Harry Potter many a time over the years, so much of decent wizard society didn't pay them any mind in the days after the war. Tobias, known to all as a distant relation through the Black family had taken it upon himself to make arrangements, quietly, for her internment in the Malfoy family vaults. Lucius had one as well, though due to disgrace to the family name... his remains were interred elsewhere in the bowels of Azkaban. When a judgment of imprisonment for eternity is levied, the Ministry of Magic does not cut a sentence short simply because one has died.

Andromeda Tonks, the last remaining member of the Black family proper, and her grandson Theodore Lupin, were also in attendance for the small ceremony Tobias held in Narcissa's honor.

Everything had been done quickly and efficiently to prevent incident with those who still harbored ill intent towards the woman and her family for their past crimes and mistakes. Draco was, in short, the last to know. Going about the arrangements in such a manner had been against his better judgment... but Narcissa was no fool. She had spelled out her intentions quite clearly with her lawyers months in advance.

What remained of the Malfoy fortune after the war reparations had been left to Draco in trust to Tobias Black, of House Black, until such time Draco may return to Britain to assume control of the House of Malfoy.

**Author's Note:**

> This would have been posted on or just after Christmas, but life gets in the way. I was, however, determined to finish this. Plus, I couldn't post this until AFTER Blood Loyal chapter "Falsum Carnem" because of the Animagus scene, and the Animagus reveal is in "Falsum Carnem" so..... there's that.
> 
> The _Soleil d'or_ rose is a direct reference to the same exact rosebush from [this Sherlock drabble here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/488552) that takes place in the same exact room of the Manor.
> 
> I've given it a once-over, but it's 2 in the morning as I'm writing this. So, as always, feel free to point out stuff if you like.


End file.
